True Honor (14 page)

* * *

Two hours later, she burst into Gabriel’s office. He bobbled his soda. “Darcy—”

“A horse race.” She nearly leaned over and kissed his frustrated face. “There’s a horse race in Morocco, and a two-year-old is running named Thatcher.” She felt like laughing her joy was so overwhelming. “That’s what the reference is about. It’s a betting tip. Thatcher plus Russian vodka seals it: Dansky is the one heading to Morocco, and he’s going to stop by the racetrack. We can get both the cell and Dansky if we move fast. But we’ve got less than four days to set it up.”

They had the golden jewel of intelligence. Future knowledge of when and where a target was going to be.

Gabriel looked at her and the twinkle in his eye that she remembered from the times they had gone behind the Berlin Wall reappeared. She smiled at him and waited.

“A principals’ meeting will be held in three hours. If I’m going to sell it, give me the bullets I can use, dahlin’. Then get your briefing books in order. I’ll want you on lead for the brief.”

She grabbed the dry eraser. “This one is going to be an easy sale. Once I knew the dots to look for, I found some more interesting pieces to the puzzle.”

Eleven

* * *

JANUARY 17

Thursday, 10:10 a.m.

Mediterranean Sea

Sam had become accustomed to fitting his life into small spaces. The USS
Dallas
was a big submarine, but after missiles, sonar, nuclear propulsion, and flood-and-fire suppression systems, there wasn’t much room left for the sailors who ran the boat, and even less for their Special Ops guests. His bunk had six inches of storage space under it, and he was splitting the space with Wolf. He had enough personal space to pack in three paperbacks and his Bible. Sam settled on the bunk with a Western he had bought especially for this underwater deployment and let himself go back in time. Old West justice had been tough and built around the man who was sheriff, but it had been direct justice that got the job done.

Someone bumped into the stateroom door. Sam glanced up. “Watch the peaches, Wolf.” The passageway had become lashed-down storage space for the extra provisions to accommodate their presence on the boat.

“It’s like living in a grocery store.”

“At least the chef has good taste in fruit. Been running?” Wolf was dripping sweat.

“Five miles on the treadmill, listening to just as many tall stories from the guy who mans the firing station on this boat.”

“George? Did he tell you about the octopus they found draped around the conning tower?”

“He disappeared and came back with the photo. A monster of a thing, and he tried to convince me it was only half grown.”

“It was.” Sam stuck a page marker in his book. “I’m enjoying this tour. These guys have been around the block a few times. Next time ask him about the last time they crashed through the ice cap near the North Pole.”

“Gentlemen.”

Wolf looked around as Bear came into the stateroom. “We just got a heads-up. That conversation you two went beach crawling to get is apparently turning up gold: We’re heading to Morocco.”

“Morocco?” Sam looked at Wolf. “I’ve never been there.”

“Neither have I. Sounds interesting. We volunteer, Bear, if you’re asking,” Wolf offered for them both.

Sam laughed. “At least ask what you’re volunteering us for first.”

“There’s going to be plenty to do on this one,” Bear assured. “We’ve got a green light to take out a cell they’ve been watching in Morocco.”

Wolf stood a little straighter. “About time.”

“Darcy came through,” Sam noted.

“Check gear; in about five hours we’ll be meeting up with the Brits on one of the flattops they’re sending our way. We’ll get an intelligence brief there.”

JANUARY 17

Thursday, 6:40 p.m.

British Carrier / Mediterranean Sea

Darcy did her best not to look outside as the helicopter flared to come in for a landing atop the deck of the British carrier. A day of travel, first by NATO plane, then by helicopter out to sea, had left her longing for firm ground. That wasn’t going to happen aboard a ship at sea. She saw sailors coming forward with chains as the helicopter settled to the deck.

“Where’s your adventuresome spirit?” Gabe asked as the door slid open. The wind whipped inside.

The weather was threatening and she had a return flight through it to look forward to. “I didn’t want to give the briefing this bad.”

“You know the information cold. Trust me, Dar. You’ll be glad you came.”

She stepped down to the flight deck. The other helicopter bringing four NATO planners landed to their left. Her part in this day would be to brief on background, and then she and Gabriel would be on their way back to shore. Doing a snatch on Dansky in Morocco with only four days to pull it together would be a logistical feat. It wouldn’t be a small operation. The British carrier was racing to cover the distance to be in position for the attempt.

Two sailors met them and provided an escort from the flight deck to the door leading into the ship’s vast superstructure.

“Brandon.” She was delighted to see the SAS officer coming to meet them.

“Welcome aboard, mates.”

Gabe shook hands with his friend. “Your other guests arrived?”

“Forty minutes ago. You’ve got perfect timing.” Brandon turned to Darcy with a smile. “Cougar’s here, and the other chaps from SEAL Team Nine. We met up with the USS
Dallas
to give us some escort coverage.”

“You knew and didn’t tell me, Gabriel?” Darcy asked, as her day went from stressful to joyous. Of all the spots in the world, she’d managed to land in the same place as Sam. “Does he know I’m coming?” she asked Brandon.

“I doubt it. They’re setting up gear in the hangar. Come on; you’ve got about twenty minutes before the briefing gets under way to say hello.”

* * *

Sam opened new packages of batteries, systematically replacing them in all the communication equipment. He wasn’t having any preventable equipment failure interrupt this operation. Beside him Wolf set down the laser sight he was cleaning, only to still as he reached for the next one.

“Wolf?”

Hands covered Sam’s eyes before his query was finished. He tensed, and then the softness of the hands registered and the fact Wolf had started to smile before it went dark.

“Hi, Navy.”

He got a whiff of her perfume as the voice registered. “Darcy.” He pivoted on his heels, not rising, slipping around in her hands. The flight jacket she wore was several sizes too large and her hands were cold, but he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight. “Dar, what are you doing enlisted in the British Navy?”

“I’ve got twenty minutes before I have to give a brief on why you all are here. It’s nice to see you, Sam.”

He got to his feet, taking both her hands in his. She’d changed. Darcy’s blue eyes were still captivating, but the sparkle in them was now subdued. She looked like she had endured the weight of this war on her shoulders until it pressed into her soul. Sam leaned down and kissed her cheek, wishing he wasn’t surrounded by others so he could greet her properly. “You’re more beautiful than I remember,” he whispered.

“And you’ve been underwater for a while,” she demurred back.

He laughed. “True.” His hands slid over the jacket sleeves to rest on her shoulders. She hadn’t changed, not in the way that mattered. He grinned like a fool, overwhelmed to have her here. Her blush hadn’t changed. It appeared as her gaze held his and her bearing turned just a touch shy. “It is so good to see you, Dar.” He had a thousand questions but settled for a simple one. “You’ve been traveling around Europe?”

“Racking up frequent flyer miles.” Her cold hands rose to cover his. “Your mom was thrilled to get your message. I talked to your brother, your dad, and your mom.”

His team crowded around to meet their first visitor in months. Sam accepted he would have to share Darcy’s limited time with his friends. He wrapped an arm around her waist and introduced her, simply enjoying listening to her voice as she answered questions about home.

“Wolf, your wife asked me to return your message back to you. And, Joe, Kelly’s doing great. She’s sending a video for you; I’ll expedite it now that I know where to send it.”

Someone handed her one of the water bottles they carried as standard parts of their packs, and she subtly shifted her weight to use Sam as a wall to lean against as she laughed and shared news of home. She had come to brief them on their upcoming mission. Sam knew what that suggested of her importance in this war. Europe was a big place; if Darcy and Gabriel had even stopped in the last months for a day off, Sam would be surprised. He was so proud of her he could burst.

Her cold hand slid into his and she turned the ring on his hand in an idle motion as she talked. Someone needed to get her a strong cup of coffee to warm her up. One of the huge elevator lifts brought down a Harrier jet from the deck above causing a swirling rush of wind. He lifted his arm and shielded her from the worst of it. She must have had an interesting flight out here.

She glanced up and back at him. “I’m not looking forward to the flight back.”

“You’ll do fine. The pilots here are the best.”

“You speak from experience?”

He smiled down at her upturned face. “Trust me; as long as you don’t have to jump out of one of those helos intentionally, you have no need to worry.”

“I missed you, Sam,” she whispered.

“Same here.” Words just didn’t cut it. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her—the too-big coat, his buddies, and the fact that they were standing in a hangar pushed aside so he could enjoy the moment. In wartime, you took what you could get and appreciated the time rather than regret its brevity. “Someone find me a camera.”

Whistles met his words.

* * *

Darcy picked up her briefing book and perched on the table at the front of the squadron room as the British SAS and U.S. SEAL Team Nine members assembled. “Gentlemen, my name is Darcy St. James. I’m a U.S. national intelligence officer working on one of the hunter teams NATO has deployed across Europe. We need a cell in Morocco taken down and one particular man snatched. I’m here to provide the background on who and why.”

She took a drink from a water bottle, settling comfortably into this briefing. She’d done many presentations over her years at the Agency, and by far briefing soldiers was one of the most straightforward and enjoyable parts of the job. No matter the rank, branch of service, or even country they came from, her task was the same: tell them what you knew, what you thought, and be clear on differentiating the two. Since they were the tip of the spear, the information she provided would lead directly to action. Long months of work on her part were about to be used to bring justice. It was why she did the job. She did her best to avoid looking at Sam, knowing that would be enough to break her train of thought.

She turned the projector on and put up the first photo. “Luther Genault. A former Czech intelligence officer. He knew September 11 would happen in advance, he profited from it, he’s the scum of the earth, and we want him.” Her frank assessment earned her a few smiles; each man studied the photo.

“He has two men working for him. This group is different; they are not terrorists seeking to implement their own agenda through violence. They seek to profit from the fact terrorism is happening in the world and, where they can make money, encourage it. Think of them as black market profiteers. And profit they have, to the tune of half a billion dollars, most through stock market manipulation.”

She clicked the pointer and put up a picture of Dansky. “This is the man we want to snatch. Peter Dansky is the operations man of the outfit. We believe he is heading to Morocco to meet with a terrorist cell we’ve been watching for some time. He’s facilitating a deal for the explosives the group is seeking to acquire. In doing so he’ll make a tidy sum and learn when and where they plan to strike so he can profit on the turmoil that results.”

She put up a photo of the compound they had been watching in Morocco. “We believe he will be at this location on January 20. He’s planning to attend a horse race and then travel south to this compound. Dansky is a cautious man. He depends on anonymity. He won’t be traveling with a big group that could draw attention; historically he’s had one driver who also acts as his security. He’s not known for disguise or changes in appearance beyond dress that would fit in among the locals. Dansky limps from surgery on his left knee.”

She put up a map of the area around the compound. “If he senses danger we believe his escape routes will be made through tapping into the old Russian network of contacts in Morocco. I’ve highlighted the few safe houses we know of, and the Russians will have a full list here by morning. Dansky cares about one person—himself. The groups he meets with are interchangeable to him. Last month he worked with that terrorist cell wiped out in Algeria. If he runs, he’s likely to go in the opposite direction from the group.”

She replaced the map with the picture of Peter Dansky again. “This man, gentlemen. We want him.”

She quietly handed the pointer off to Gabriel, who would be presenting details on the Moroccan compound. She could see it in their faces—this group of men wouldn’t fail. And that was exactly what she wanted to see. She caught Sam’s gaze and held it. In situations like this one he’d be key; the snipers always were. She’d done her job; now he’d do his. She was so proud of him. She was grateful he was one of the soldiers the military had prepared for just such an assignment. They couldn’t afford missing this opportunity.

JANUARY 19

Saturday, 4:10 p.m.

British Carrier / Mediterranean Sea

Sam knelt beside the huge satellite maps spread out on the hangar deck next to two Harrier jets undergoing maintenance, mentally going over the plan one more time against the best visuals they had of the situation on the ground. The SEAL team had been working this plan for a day and a half side by side with the SAS team. It was unusual for their teams to work so tightly coupled in an active mission, but given the men and equipment in position to act within the time constraints, this was a very smart pairing. He had to admire the intel Darcy and Gabriel had provided. They knew this compound inside and out.